Dirty Paws
by minttulovesyou
Summary: Blaine Anderson swore he'd never get himself any kind of a hybrid.
1. Chapter 1

If there's one thing Kurt has learned during the past months he's spent on the streets, it's that one should never eat anything from the garbage can if they want to live. He's not exaggerating; he tried that himself once. He still shudders when he thinks about it – not only did he get sick but avoided getting caught just by mere seconds. He will never risk that again. He may not be older than thirteen but he understands enough to know that a sick collarless hybrid would attract too much attention.

That's why he's waiting in front of a Chinese restaurant. He knows for a fact that the cook gives him the leftovers if he's patient enough and looks hungry enough, which will probably not be a problem as this is the first time he'll get food the whole day. His stomach churns and he curls up into himself a bit more, rests his head on his hands and waits.

It's not like he needs his owners. Or any humans, for that matter – he's just fine by himself, isn't he? He might be a bit hungry and cold most of the time but he's doing fine. He's alive and in a good enough shape, though he's pretty sure his bones didn't jut out this much before. He does miss the warm safeness of a bed (even though he wasn't really allowed to sleep in one) and the comfortable couch (even though he could lie on it only when he was alone) and all the best spots where the sun would feel extra warm when he turned his head towards it – but he doesn't want to go back. He would _never_ go back.

The lights dim in the restaurant and the door opens. Kurt lifts his head and rises to his feet – he's missed the food once, when the cook had already left, and had felt hungry enough to steal a hamburger from a kid. He feels a little bad but he had been _really_ hungry and the kid hadn't kept an eye on it, and it had tasted _so good _even though before he would have_ never _eaten something like a hamburger. It's weird what a few months without a home and regular food can do to a person.

He makes a soft questioning noise as he walks slowly towards the person coming out of the door – people seem to like him more when he acts more like a cat, he doesn't know why – and he turns around.

But he doesn't have anything in his hands, like he usually has when he comes out of the restaurant after work.

Kurt's shoulders slump.

So no food today.

He's gone before the cook realizes he's been there at all.

* * *

Kurt doesn't really have too much of rules now that he's not anyone's, but there are few – all reasonable and strict, made and set by himself, and he can think of at least ten reasons for each rule to exist. He always follows them, respects his life too much to risk it for something stupid like running through the city center in the daylight. People might notice. People _would_ notice.

One, never let anyone see you. They will catch you and take you to the _Center_.

Two, never take food from anyone. They will catch you and take you to the _Center._

Three, never trust anyone. They will betray you and take you to the _Center_.

Kurt's not entirely sure what the _Center_ is. He knows that his owners used to tell him that if he didn't behave they'd take him to the _Center,_ and whatever it is it must be something horrible, because his owners always got that expression on their faces when they talked about it. The only thing he knows today is that he never wants to be taken to the _Center_.

It's especially hard to obey the rules today – he hasn't eaten a bite since Sunday, and it must be Tuesday already, he thinks. It's dark in his hiding spot, a bit cold and wet and he really doesn't want to lie there the whole day. He's never been this hungry and he thinks it must be because even though he's used to not eating, he's been getting more or less regularly food for two weeks or so and it feels especially horrible to starve now that he's gotten so used to having food once a day.

So that's why he's purposefully forgotten the rules number one and two and has a hat on his head, his tail tucked in his pants and is sitting in front of a shop with his back against the wall. He knows he's looking pretty bad – his face is dirty and there must be some blood from when he got into a fight and his nose bleed for _ages_, all over his shirt and face, but with some luck he might get some food or maybe even money. The sun shines straight onto his face, anyway, and it feels _so_ good. He doesn't think he's felt it in ages.

He must have fell asleep, because when he opens his eyes the next time the sun is already set and the streets are emptier. There's still a few people and the shop is still open, so he's not too worried, but it makes him feel a bit uneasy to know that he's slept there, so close to so many people. Anyone could have noticed. Despite the hat and temporal lack of tail he's pretty obviously a hybrid – his eyes clearly more expressive and attentive than any human's, reflexes sharp and body long and lean. Anyone could have noticed; anyone could have taken him. Kurt shudders briefly at the idea, his stomach growls and he sighs into his hands. Dear God he's just so _hungry, _and he's fighting against the tempt to curl into himself and die. It seems like he'll be doing another trip to the Chinese restaurant today, after all. He moans a little, closes his eyes and lets his head drop. He'll move later.

"Here" says a voice right next to him, and Kurt swears he jumps at least a feet to his right. He's curled into a tight ball before he even knows it, his tail trying to move in his pants as he whimpers. _Please no no no don't take me away oh my god - _

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to – you just looked so hungry, I'm sorry-" says the voice, and the human sounds just as panicked as Kurt feels, and he opens his eyes against his better judgment.

The human is a young boy. A boy with a panicked expression on his face and black curly hair and a bag on his left hand and a bread in the right and he looks so completely harmless it scares him, because it started like this the last time too and Kurt almost trips over his own feet as he gets up and -

wait.

Food?

He freezes and looks back at the boy slowly. He's still looking anxious and a bit self-conscious too, but his wide hazel eyes are earnest and a bit glossy as he looks at Kurt. He's not entirely sure what to do – he's already breaking all of his rules, but he's so so so hungry he's sure his insides are eating a hole in his stomach if he doesn't get something to eat soon. So he makes a soft questioning noise and watches as the boys eyes soften and realization hits him – he panics a little but the boy just smiles, his eyes soft and smile small.

"You can have it all", he says, his smile all soft and understanding. "I have enough anyway", and at that all the restrains melt and Kurt gives in. The bread is fresh, still warm on his hand and he almost moans at the feeling. It feels even better in his mouth, and he doesn't really care what the other boy thinks about him because he's so so so hungry, still, and it's way too good. He can't remember the last time he had real, fresh bread.

The boy's eyes never leave him, the expression on his face is somewhat proud and soft at the same time, with no hint of pity. Kurt eats the food in a pace that would have embarrassed him before but leaves him only grateful nowadays, and when he's finished the boy hands him wordlessly an apple.

"I'm Blaine", he says softly while Kurt sinks his teeth into the fruit.  
"Khurth", he answers with his mouth full. He has the decency to blush, and he clears his throat awkwardly. "Kurt", he clarifies then, his head hanging. The other boy chuckles at him, but it's a kind kind of laugh, so Kurt doesn't mind, just smiles a little.

He finishes his apple in a silence, watching Blaine intently. He can practically _feel_ his tail flicking around curiously. He's so curious his skin is itching – _who is_ this boy? No-one has ever given him anything, if you don't count in the cook of the Chinese restaurant.

"You didn't have to do that", he says once he's finished. The need to lick his fingers clean is horrible but Kurt refuses to give in to the instinct, knowing that he has embarrassed himself enough already. But the boy just laughs dismissively.

"But I wanted to", he says and shrugs. Kurt decides that he likes the sound of his laugh.

"Thank you, then", Kurt smiles carefully, a practiced, calculated distance between them. He's almost sure Blaine will ask, will question and maybe still take him to the _Center_, but he doesn't.

They sit in complete silence for a while, and Kurt finds himself relaxing in the warmth of the setting sun, small purrs leaving his throat as his eyes slip shut. He can't remember when was the last time he felt this good, his stomach full and the air warm around him, someone who cares next to him, and he doesn't even realize what he's doing before he's got his face tucked safely into the crook of the other boy's neck. It's so warm, so comfortable and the other boy smells so good, and he can only barely keep himself from licking the skin of his neck, and oh god he could just stay there forever.

He jumps, then, his eyes wide and fearful,_ bad cat __fucking faggot behave yourself__, please please dont hit me _and Blaine's frozen to the spot with his hand risen to pet the smaller boy's ears, his eyes panicked again and Kurt does the unforgivable; he hisses. His ears are flat against his head and his tail is between his legs, and he's so, so scared because dear god he's going to die, Blaine is going to beat him up and take him to the _Center_ and -

Kurt doesn't look behind as he runs as fast as he can.

* * *

Blaine Anderson is that kind of a person you would call ridiculously spoiled and lucky.

At the age of nineteen he has the house of his dreams (two bedrooms, a huge living room and a lovely kitchen with carefully chosen furniture, completely paid by his parents), a car (a gift from his parents he got when he was eighteen and moved away), all the electronics he ever pointed his finger at and lately, the job of his dreams (songwriter-singer).

Shortly, Blaine has all the material he would ever want and a bit more. After going through both high school (Dalton Academy, Westerville) and college (NYADA, New York) as one of the best students and one of the most popular kids as well, he moved to New York to begin his career as a musician, the job he always wanted. His parents may not have loved the idea, but they had been always supportive and Blaine is so, so grateful to them. He knows he could have had it so much worse – it's not easy to be a gay kid in Ohio, after all.

Blaine had known that he had wanted to live in New York ever since they visited the city when he was thirteen. He had loved the tall buildings and the busy streets, the opportunities it held and especially the people. Which brings us to the next point – Blaine is lonely.

It's hard to not to be lonely when he's living alone in a huge apartment, the sound of whatever music he's playing the only thing keeping him sane during the long days and even longer nights. He'd love to have friends, but truth to be told, he hasn't tried too hard to get any. He's busy, he really is, and he's a bit afraid that he wouldn't have time for friends anyway. The only friend from high school he keeps in touch with is Wes, and Wes has his own life and friends in Los Angeles.

So, that's why he's doing what he's doing.

Blaine isn't really a big fan of hybrids – not because he doesn't like them, but because he absolutely loathes the way people treat them. He remembers promising himself that he'd never get a hybrid, never destroy a persons life like that, but he really is lonely and desperate. At least he's going to get one from the shelter, so he's doing something good.

So, he wraps a scarf tighter around his neck, tucks his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat and opens the door.

The shelter is a big, cold-looking windowless building. The man waiting for him is in his late thirties, and his handshake is a bit too strong.

It's noisy and a bit too warm and Blaine takes off his coat as they walk to the place they keep the hybrids in. He doesn't think he's heard that many different sounds at the same time in his life – there's bird chirping, meows, barks and other noises he can't identify. He wonders briefly why none of the hybrids make noises one could classify as human noises. Maybe they're trained out of it, he thinks, feeling a bit sick.

The Man pushes the door open and the noises become clearer and stronger. Blaine takes a hesitant step inside, and woah, well, he didn't know they could stuff so many people in that small space. He's not even even exaggerating; the hybrids have roughly the size of a small bed of a cage, with only a mattress on the floor. A few of them have blankets or toys and a few of them seem to be hurt.

The disgusted expression on his face is apparently clear enough, because the Man looks uncomfortable as he tries to defend the shelter.

"We're a bit short of money right now", he explains awkwardly as Blaine's eyes drift from a dangerously skinny cat hybrid to a scared-looking dog hybrid with a bloody nose.

"I can see", he replies dryly, his stomach churning uncomfortably at the sight of an obviously injured, limping young cat hybrid with terrified eyes and jutting bones. It's even worse than he thought it would be and he's beginning to regret it. Maybe it would be the best if he just went back home and never brought this subject up again – but.

But. Now that he's seen all these hybrids and the horrible way they're being treated, he's determined to make a difference, to give the good home they deserve for at least one of them. And that's the reason he keeps on walking through the corridor, looking into the cages he passes and occasionally asking things from the Man. There are young, abandoned hybrids and older collarless ones that are found from the streets, but none of them is any different to him. He knows there's going to be the one for him, but as he reaches the end of the corridor he still hasn't felt the spark and feels a jab of disappointment.

"Is there any more?" he asks the Man, who looks a bit unsure.

"Well, there are the ones we're getting rid of, if you catch my drift... I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you took a look at them", he says with a small shrug and Blaine can feel his blood running cold. Getting rid of. Technically it's illegal to _put down_ hybrids, but most of the shelters still do it with the hybrids too sick or aggressive to find a new owner. Blaine knew this, of course, but it still feels like a punch to the face, to hear it like this.

"You wanna see them?" the Man asks and Blaine finds himself nodding.

And that's how he finds Kurt.

The corridor where they keep the to be-killed hybrids is even more stuffed, hot and small, and there's two hybrids in each cage. Blaine can feel himself tearing up at the sight of the hybrids, lying on the ground or sitting in a corner with their ears flat against their heads and eyes on the ground, waiting for death.

He spends more time going through these hybrids. He tries talking to them in a soft voice, and some of them answer with a scratchy voice, but most of them keep quiet and barely even lift their eyes from the ground. Blaine's heart aches as he realizes that these hybrids, these persons will die here, be _put down_ like some kind of animals because no-one wants them anymore. It's so horribly unfair and he kind of feels sick again. He just wishes he could save them all. He knows he's going to be able to save only one, though, so he keeps looking.

It takes a long while, but finally he's at the end of the corridor, facing a defeated-looking dog hybrid with sunken blue eyes and golden hair, and he wishes his eyes can tell her how sorry he is, and as she wags her tail a little with a brave smile he feels his heart breaking into millions of pieces, wishing he could save her and all the other hybrids. He can vaguely hear the Man talking about the dog hybrid he's trying to communicate wordlessly with ("Brittany is sweet but a bit dumb, we don't know why she's so afraid of belts but she'll probably grow out of it") and he feels the rage flaming up inside of him again.

He bites his lip and sends one last look to Brittany as he stands up.

That's it, then, he supposes. He could take Brittany – and he probably would, but frankly, she doesn't spark any interest he knows he's looking for.

He's just about to thank the Man for his time (and then call the police once he's left the building) when a tiny whimper from Brittany's cage catches his attention. He had though it was strange that Brittany had her own cage, but apparently that wasn't the case – because now that he knows where to look there's a small cat hybrid in the corner of the cage, curled into himself, probably just as much to keep himself warm as to hide.

The hybrid lifts his head and Blaine freezes -

"_I'm Blaine" "Kurt" "You didn't have to do that" "But I wanted to" "Thank you, then" -_

"That one", he blurts out. "In the corner. I'll have him".

If the Man is surprised, he doesn't show it. He nods once and draws a blank form from the pocket of his coat (really, does he just carry those around?) and hands it and a pen to Blaine.

Kurt. Kurt who he had met only once and even then so briefly. Kurt, who had looked so thin and nervous and who had ran away. Kurt, who had gotten caught. It's like there's an icy fist clutching his heart as he fills the form with shaking hands and gives it back to the Man. He nods once, and smiles that little smile that makes Blaine feel uncomfortable.

He feels bad when the Man opens the door of the cage and picks the cat hybrid up like he weights nothing, wraps a blanket around his lithe body and unceremoniously drops him to the floor. It's like his feet aren't capable of carrying his weight and he loses his balance and falls against Blaine.

"Woah", he says, trying to sound light. "Careful".

The hybrid is a bit taller than he is, and so light he practically does weight nothing. He seems to be too tired to stand by himself and Blaine isn't sure what to do – will he let him carry him to the car? But he seems to be too much out of it to really realize what's going on, his eyes empty and unblinking as he stares at the white wall next to the door.

Blaine ends up carrying Kurt into the car. At some point he lets his head fall against Blaine's collarbone and Blaine can feel the trembling sigh he releases. His arms tighten around him instinctively; there's something in his head telling him to protect this beautiful boy and he's doing his best to do just so.

So he drives him home.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n:** hi, it's me, the author. :) i forgot to say, but this story contains **non-con** and** abuse** (only implied and/or in flashbacks) so if it seems like this is not your piece of cake, please stop reading. the other thing is that i will probably be updating once a week or a bit less frequently. i'm a slow writer who loses interest in a chapter pretty quickly, and i have school and other stuff that keep me busy.

a big thank you to everyone who left a review, followed or favourited this story - it means a lot to me to know that someone is reading my story! **anon**, are you a mind-reader or something or am i just really obvious? :D yes, that was my original plan. i don't know if it's going to happen, though. **fangirl**, it's not told in the fic but let's just say that he did call the police lol because i'm a lazy ass and want to go to sleep.

anyway, here's chapter two!

* * *

It's like Kurt wakes up a bit during the car trip. By the time they stop in front of Blaine's house his ears are up and twitching a little, like he's vaguely interested about his surroundings. His eyes are still dull, though, and he doesn't resist when Blaine scoops him in his arms and carries him inside.

He's not entirely sure what he should do then, though. He's not sure if Kurt can stand on his own by now, but he doesn't know what else to do. Can he just drop him on the couch? Or on the bed in the guest room?

But somewhere while he thinks Kurt begins to paw at his shirt, and as he looks down he realizes no matter he's going to do he's going to have to do it soon, because it looks like Kurt is becoming more and more terrified by each second. His ears are flat against his head and his eyes are wide as a small whimper escapes his mouth and Blaine thinks quickly.

He lifts one hand to awkwardly pet Kurt's hair behind his ears, scratching lightly and smiling a bit as Kurt continues staring at him with wide eyes. It's not much, but it's a distraction – and soon enough he's pressing his head tentatively against Blaine's hand and letting a small, breathy purr pass his lips.

It's not much but somehow it feels like the greatest victory to Blaine.

* * *

In the end Blaine decides that it may be the best to tuck Kurt in bed even though it's barely nine o'clock and he somehow involuntarily carries him into the room he had decorated for him.

It's not too much – the walls are painted blue and there are new, clean sheets in the bed and a desk, a bookshelf and a colorful carpet on the floor. He thinks that they can maybe shop together for some new furniture once Kurt feels better. They'll pick the curtains together and maybe re-paint the walls, if Kurt doesn't like the color, and they can buy him books and dvds and a computer if he wants one, and cds, of course. Blaine can't imagine a life without music. They can get Kurt absolutely what he ever wants.

For now, though, the room is enough, as Kurt will probably not do anything else than sleep. So, he lies the already half-asleep boy on the bed and draws the covers up to his neck.

* * *

It's dark and quiet when Kurt wakes up.

That alone should be enough to alarm him, but somehow he's still too exhausted and out of it to really notice, and he just sighs softly and rolls over, slumping his head into the pillow and moving a bit around. The blanket is tangled up around his feet, and he sighs in frustration as he tries to disentangle it with his feet. His limbs feel oddly heavy and the room is dark, and oh jesus christ that blanket is not going to straighten, is it? He's so tired and he really just wants his blanket and -

wait.

There's no blankets in their cages.

Which means that he's not in the Shelter. Which means that he's either dead or adopted.

He flails a bit, hits the wall with his wrist and grimaces a bit at the feeling, white pain shooting from his wrist down his arm and he hisses a little as he cradles his arm against his chest. Alive, then.

But – if he's alive and adopted and he's lying in a bed -

Kurt freezes.

He's in a bed. In a bed. Inabedinabedinabedinabedhave togogoingtobehurt -

It takes a while before he realizes that the horrible noise he's hearing is coming from his own mouth.

* * *

It takes Blaine a few minutes to realize what woke him up.

It's still dark in his room, the headlights of the cars passing his house lighting up the wall every now and then, and still, he's hearing a voice – an insistent, panicked voice, and okay, oh god, why is there someone in his house?

He's halfway up and away before he realizes – Kurt. It's Kurt, of course. Who else could it be? And okay, what t he fuck is happening?

The door is slightly open, and there's dim light coming from the room. The noises sound more distressed this close and Blaine is getting worried. He knew Kurt would probably have trouble adjusting, but these _noises_ – they don't sound like a human at all. These are noises a dying cat would make. But Blaine braces himself and pushes the door open.

His blood runs cold.

Kurt's on the floor, curled up into a tight ball, his hands protectively over his ears and terrified little noises escaping his mouth. His nose is bleeding and Blaine guesses he hit it somewhere when he woke up (fell from the bed? Got scared when he woke up in a strange place?) and oh jesus christ how is he going to fix this? No-one ever told him how to make a terrified, hurt hybrid trust him.

So, he falls on his knees next to Kurt, trying desperately to keep his voice low and calm as he speaks.

"You're okay, Kurt, It's okay", is what he means to say but honestly, he has no idea what passes his lips as he tries to calm the trembling, crying boy down. It doesn't make a difference, anyway, as Kurt continues crying harder, his hands clutching at his ears as he tries to curl into himself even tighter, and dearjesushelp what is he going to do with this boy?

Blaine shakes those thoughts away, and praying for the best he lifts Kurt up by his shoulders, forcing his body to uncurl and straighten into a sitting position his face still crumbled up with hysterical cries and furious trembling shaking his lithe body.

"Kurt", he says loudly and as calmly as he possibly can, looking straight into the other boy's blue eyes. They're rimmed red, wet and there's a steady flow of tears streaming down his cheeks but oh god, are they beautiful. Blaine shakes his head; this is not going where he wants it to. But – it seems like Kurt is listening to him. At least his eyes seem to be more in focus now, the pupils blown in the dim light and ears twitching nervously every now and then towards Blaine, as if he was expecting him to do something.

So he does.

Kurt flinches when Blaine takes his hand but he doesn't try to shy away from the touch; Blaine isn't entirely sure if it's because of him or because he's been told to do so. His heart clenches painfully at the thought and he forces it in the back of his mind – he'll come back to that later. Right now he has more important issues in his mind. Like Kurt. Who has started shaking again. Fuck.

"Kurt", he starts again, and he hates to admit it, but his voice isn't as steady as he'd like it to be. He's usually so dapper and put-together and he honestly isn't sure if he's capable of doing this. He honestly can't even remember the last time he felt this unsure and nervous of himself, and okay, it's a little bit terrifying, but for god's sake, Blaine, put yourself together.

So, he does.

"You're okay", he says, as calmly as he possibly can, relieved when his voice shakes only the tiniest bit. Kurt's eyes are still wide, and with Blaine's fingers wrapped tightly around his delicate, thin wrists he just looks so young and fragile, and Blaine can feel himself melting. Oh, for the love of god...

But well, Kurt seems to actually be listening now, so that's a good thing, he thinks. He gives Kurt's hand a quick grasp before he lets go, his fingers suddenly burning as he clears his head a little.

"Okay, you're okay. Calm down for me, can you do that? Good, keep breathing, shh, it's okay- no, hey, shh, come on", Blaine's voice grows a bit desperate when Kurt whimpers and hides his face behind his hands. Blaine is a bit unsure what to do; he's afraid that the younger boy might start panicking again now that he's got this much control, but he thinks that it may be just worse for Kurt if he takes his hands again. He lets out a frustrated huff; no matter how good he though he had been prepared to own a hybrid, he never cared much to find out how to deal with a terrified boy who refused to stop crying over no reason at all. Because frankly, Blaine has no idea what could have upset him so bad. He had been sleeping just fine not over five hours ago, sound asleep in a fetal position under three blankets (he had figured that extra warmness was always good, especially when the boy was so thin that he was probably unable to develop any body heat by himself) with his thumb in his mouth.

He frowns. Maybe the boy had a nightmare? Yes, that must be it – because he doesn't know why else he would have panicked this much. Maybe it was about his previous owner? Owners? Blaine frowns again. God, he doesn't even know if the boy has had more than one owners – maybe he's one of those who never really seem to find a good family? Though Blaine has no idea why anyone could have let someone like Kurt go... But that must be it, and that's why Kurt is so scared.

He's side-tracking again, Jesus fucking Christ. Kurt has stopped crying, only letting out small whimpers every now and then but otherwise silent. The tears have stopped streaming but he's still pretty shaken, apparently. He's still hiding his face behind his hands but not so desperately anymore. It's more like he can't gather the courage to remove them than anything else. Blaine kind of understands him. He knows what it feels like to be in a strange, scary situation, but well, okay, this is a bit more scary and strange to Kurt than it ever was for him, even when he came out and his dad wouldn't look him in the eye for a week.

"Hey", he says softly, his fingers tracing lightly the bone in Kurt's wrist. The boy stills at the contact and he draws in a shuddery breath, and Blaine _really _isn't sure what he's supposed to do here.

"Why are you so upset?" he asks, careful to keep his voice low and calm as he caresses Kurt's wrist. The other boy moves his hands enough to look up at him, his eyes wide and glossy, expression curious but withdrawn at the same time. It makes Blaine wonder how anyone could look like that, but he mentally shakes his head. Woah, he's got some serious trouble with concentrating tonight.

"It's okay, you can tell me", he says, smiles carefully and ohgodohgod let him realize that he's trying to look nice and not scary and threatening old man -

but Kurt wipes his nose on the sleeve of his shirt (Blaine can see how much the motion disgusts the boy but he does it anyway) and opens his mouth.

"Bed", he says simply. His voice is so quiet Blaine isn't sure he heard right, but wow, okay.

"So, bed?" he asks conversationally. "What about the bed? Isn't it good?", he asks, totally no judgment in his tone and trying to keep the smile on his face, but the boy shrinks back into himself.

"No, sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep in the bed, I didn't – please don't send me back, I can be a good boy, please let me prove it, please do what you want with me, I deserve your punishments, I-" he rambles, his voice taking the shrill edge of panic as he talks faster and faster, his eyes growing wider as he talks. And woah, well, Blaine knew that people didn't really think much of hybrids, didn't he? But Jesus did it make him angry and sad to hear this beautiful boy, this _person_ talking about not having the right of sleeping in a fucking _bed_.

"_Kurt"_, he interrupts. "You're allowed to sleep in the bed. I'm not going to punish you. I am _never_ going to punish you – never. You hear me?" Blaine hopes his voice isn't too scary (that's the last thing Kurt needs right now) and he tries to sound as sincere as he can, and oh, he thinks that's a nod there. He'd call that progress.

"Good", he says softly, his eyes warm and looking straight into Kurt's. It's clear how hard he's struggling to look back but Blaine appreciates it, he really does, and well, okay, that's not a tear. Totally not. And even if it is it's just because he's over-emotional and it's fucking _two in the fucking morning. _But Kurt is fidgeting nervously, his eyes downcast again. There's a little something in him that's absolutely screaming – Blaine could be wrong, there are many times he's misjudged the situation and made it awkward – his need to be held, and okay, well, that Blaine can do.

So, moving slowly enough to give the other boy time to refuse, he moves closer, looking directly into Kurt's eyes as he does so, and when the boy doesn't move, wraps his arms around the thin boy. He's rigid and stiff in his hold, but slowly he relaxes, his posture softening against Blaine as tentative arms wrap around his neck and a face presses against his neck.

It's comforting, and he can feel Kurt's breathing evening out as he sings softly into his ear.

* * *

Blaine has always considered himself as a cuddly person.

He prefers a touch over words and a hug over a "you mean so much to me", that's always been clear – so it's not really a surprise to him to wake up tangled into something. Usually it's a blanket, or a pillow – one time he had even proceeded to take off his hoodie and wake up cradling it to his chest like it was his newborn baby. So, naturally, when he wakes up holding onto something tightly his instincts tell him to keep holding on.

The thing here is just that this time the thing was, trusting in the steady rise and fall of it's chest, even though the thing was trying to stay very still and very quiet, actually alive.

There's a bunch of thoughts racing through his mind –_ jesus christ how drunk was I last night, who is this_ and _when did I get a dog_ being the top three – before his mind fully registers what's happening.

Kurt. Of course.

Then he remembers – this is the broken boy he held in his arms for two hours before he fell asleep last night, and panics a little.

Kurt lets out a distressed noise and Blaine loosens his grip.

Or okay, maybe a lot.

He hurries to let go completely, then, his arm stuck underneath Kurt's body and wow, it's completely asleep and kinda hurts. He's pretty sure he's destroyed their fragile friendship (? or okay, maybe it's a bit too early to call it that) with the cuddlewhore-ing and probably also traumatized Kurt so thoroughly he's never going to talk to him – but then Kurt turns around in his arms to look sleepily at him.

And Blaine realizes that he's purring.

It's subtle, quiet but it's definitely there, rumbling in Kurt's chest and vibrating against Blaine's stomach and chest, and don't cats purr when they're happy? Blaine's pretty sure that's what he's read, at least he thinks it is. Rachel's cat purrs when he pets him, anyway. He's a real cat, though, and Kurt is a hybrid, and he wonders if there's a difference between them? If Kurt purrs when he's distressed and scared?

But the lazy smile and slow blinking of his eyes tells him otherwise. It's like he's not completely awake yet, his body heavy with sleep and eyes drooping shut in the first rays of sun shining through the curtains. Blaine can feel Kurt's tail curling slowly against his leg and his ears twitch a little against his cheek.

It's kind of beautiful, really. Watching the otherwise scared boy so content and unhurried... Blaine can kind of feel his heart swelling in his chest, and okay, this could be a problem.

But as much as it pains him, Blaine gets up before Kurt wakes up properly, puts on some clothes and walks into the kitchen to make some coffee.

* * *

Kurt slips into the kitchen a full hour later, his ears flat against his head and his whole posture as small as possible, his long tail curled between his legs and his steps small and tentative. Blaine lifts his eyes from the newspaper he's been reading for the past forty four minutes or so, and smiles warmly at Kurt. The hybrid seems to still be a bit jumpy, but at least he smiles tentatively back.

"What do you want to eat?" he asks, getting up. Kurt's eyes widen.

"Uh, what ever you have is fine?" he answers, biting his lip. Blaine stares at him.

"Anything in particular?" he asks, and frowns when Kurt shakes his head. "Are you sure? I have bread, and cereal, and I think there might be some yoghurt in there... I also have some tuna if you want it? Or, I have oranges and bananas, do you want them?" he asks, but Kurt just shakes his head.

"Just.. Whatever you want", he says and his voice is small, but he eyes the items on the counter curiously and Blaine sees straight through him.

"Banana then?", he guesses with a small smile. Kurt gives him a shy smile as he takes the banana.

"Having problems?" Blaine asks with an amused smirk when Kurt keeps staring at the banana with a deep frown. The boy blushes – actually _blushes _and grumbles something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Blaine asks, now deeply amused. The question, though, sends Kurt into a full-on panic mode. His head snaps up and his eyes widen to the size of an apple and _god,_ Blaine wants to hit himself. He keeps on forgetting.

"Hey", he says very softly. "I didn't mean it like that. Remember what I said about punishments? There will be none. Calm down, Kurt – you're okay, breathe -"

The boy is very near to hyperventilating when Blaine finally gets him to calm down. His insides twist as he thinks about what his previous owners probably did – or didn't do, in this case – when Kurt panicked. It's like he's honestly surprised when Blaine doesn't ignore him, or beat him up, or _god knows _what people have done to him. He tightens his hold of the boy every time it looks like he's going to start to cry again.

By the time Kurt disentangles himself from Blaine it's well past eleven am and Kurt's stomach grumbles loudly. The boy ducks his head as he flushes, and Blaine chuckles again.

"What about I peel that banana for you and we can talk a bit after that, huh?" Blaine asks conversationally as he takes a new banana (the first one looks more like a smoothie by now, Kurt's grip_ is_ strong) and begins to peel it. Kurt's eyes follow his hands hungrily, and it would be amusing if it wasn't so sad. He knows that Kurt probably hasn't had proper food since forever – the owners like to think that the hybrids are completely animals, giving them only food meant for animals. It disgusts Blaine, frankly, but what can he do?

His fears are proved right when he looks at Kurt, his eyes full of wonder as he holds the fruit in his hand like it's the most prized possession he could imagine. His teeth graze the banana grazefully and his brows are furrowed in an expression so adorable Blaine has to kick himself mentally to stop himself from smiling.

Eventually, Kurt has eaten the banana (as well as two oranges and a cup of cocoa) and is just kind of sitting at the table, his ears up and tail twitching behind him against Blaine's kitchen chair which he's sitting cross-legged on.

Blaine really doesn't want to have this conversation – as in, really, _really_ doesn't. But Kurt is right there, looking happy and pleased and much like he's going to start purring soon, and Blaine wants him to know that he's always allowed to be happy. So, he gathers the pieces of his courage and responsibility and opens his mouth.

"I think it's the time for us to set some rules", he begins, and oh, he can see how Kurt's smile disappears and ears drop against his head. Great. He tries to smile calmly, but Kurt won't look him in the eye. Guess he'll just have to go on.

"Firstly, I don't know what your rules with your last "owners"" - he draws quotation marks with his fingers in the air at the word "owners" - "were, but I don't have that kind of rules. You're always allowed to sit, sleep or generally just be on the chairs, beds or the couch. I'd recommend you not to sit or sleep on the table, but that's not forbidden. You're allowed to eat whenever you feel like it, and entertain yourself as you like. You can watch the television or read or listen to music, what ever you want to do", he lists, and Kurt just looks at him with his mouth slightly open.

"What I expect you to do is keep your room clean – that kind of clean that it isn't full of two weeks old leftovers and dirty socks. I'd also appreciate if you helped me to cook sometimes, but frankly, right now the only thing I want you to do is eat and sleep. You look like you could use some more weight", he says. Kurt's eyes are starting to get glossy.

"I don't believe in punishments. Therefore, there will be no punishments. At all. Never worry about that, I will _never_ hurt you", and this time his tone is softer. Kurt nods, his eyes huge and solemn.

"I believe that's all. Now, what do you want to do?"


End file.
